Page:Fifes and Drums, Poems of America at War, Vigilantes, 1917.djvu/26

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Where the stars above the trenches meet the soldier's dying glance—

Its call is sounding on.

I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel;

"As ye deal with My contemners, so with you My grace shall deal;

Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,

Since God is marching on."

My country—oh, my country! Clear-sighted then and strong,

A shield for the defenceless and a flame against the wrong,

True to the ringing echoes of that mighty marching song

That still is sounding on—